Coming around
by Aibileen Finch
Summary: Lily has a nightmare. A bad one. Will she accept the solace James brings and finally acknowledge his vulnerable side?


I saw the hooded man at my door. Fear ran through my veins with such choler, I felt myself grow paralyzed. My vision tunneled, and I couldn't see anything past the snakelike eyes, the lipless mouth, set in white, flaccid skin. The hood did little to hide his identity. I think I felt my hands lifting to close the door and block him (which I knew was stupid). I must have failed, because I was vaguely aware of my feet carrying me towards my wand.

When I ran in, high-pitched laughter ringing in my ears, I saw my parents lying still on the ground, and Petunia sitting petrified in her chair. Images of my dead parents, a dead Petunia, with glassy eyes and white, blood-drained skin ran through my mind.

She looked scared of me now. Voldemort at the door, and she was scared of me. I could have laughed.

"Isn't this what you always wanted, you worthless freak?" Petunia said, her lips barely moving.

I couldn't make sense of what she was saying.

Then I saw her eyes shift towards the door, widening. Blinding fear gripped me. I turned around, numb.

And then I saw the scene I'd seen in my nightmares a hundred times before.

My parents, cold and bloody, staring into nothingness, their eyes rolled back into their skulls.

I wanted to shake my parents awake, until they looked at me, and shield them with everything I had so that no part of Voldemort could harm them. Some part of my mind knew that my parents were gone, that they were beyond my help. I looked back at Petunia, expecting to see my horror reflected on her face.

Instead, I found her lying on the chair, head lolling sideways, eyes wide open. I held back a scream. Voldemort was nowhere in sight. I sagged to the floor.

Had she really believed that I was the reason our parents had died? That I'd brought this upon us myself? As I repeated her words to myself, I found myself believing her. I _had_ been the reason. The realization struck me like a scalpel through the heart. I clutched my chest.

And yet, how could explain to her that I was just as scared as she was, that I would never have done anything to intentionally harm them? How could I explain that I would have willingly put as much distance between my family and myself if it meant keeping them safe? I loved my family dearly, including Petunia. Didn't she know that? Did she really believe I was evil? And what was I doing? Why hadn't I defended my family when they had needed me the most?

This is what I had always wanted, to face Voldemort, to defeat him. To kill him and avenge all those innocent souls that had died because of him. Now when I'd finally faced him, I'd been standing there immobilized.

There was no space in my heart except for blinding rage, hatred and grief. I couldn't have decided which was the strongest. Hatred for myself, for Voldemort, anger at the unfairness of it all, or the guilt weighing me down?

Yet, I'd been standing there and doing nothing. I was helpless. This was exactly what I had feared all my life. Feeling helpless when facing this monster, letting all my years of practice go worthless.

Sudden, cold laughter made me jump. Where had he reappeared from? My heart pounding against my ribs, I turned around, wand held limply in my hand. I couldn't find the strength to raise my arm.

He raised his wand and I was in no position to defend myself. A bright light blinded me, and I screamed.

I woke up, drenched in sweat, my hands clutching my sheets. I touched my tear stained cheek and felt myself shivering; my heart still pounding. I immediately reached out for my wand. It was dead silent. I couldn't hear James's soft snores. I got up shakily and started walking towards the door. I opened it, and stepped outside.

Just then, a figure emerged in the dark. I saw the silhouette and raised my wand, ready to attack.

"Evans?" A highly worried and familiar voice called.

"Are you okay? I thought I heard you scream."

I hadn't realized that I'd screamed out loud. I stood there silently, not putting down my wand, in spite of knowing that it was just James standing there. His presence was oddly comforting. He waved his hand in front of my face as I stood there, unresponsive.

"LILY! Say something!" he demanded.

"Yeah. Yeah. I'm okay," I managed to stutter. He started walking towards me slowly. I backed into my room.

"James, go to bed. I'm good." I told him. He didn't buy it. He gently placed his hand on my shoulder, took away my wand, and placed it on the table. His hand sent tingles down my spine. _I must be cold_ , I thought to myself. He sat me on the bed.

"What is it Lily?" He asked, concerned. His hazel eyes were filled with worry, and I was sorry to have caused it.

"Nothing. Its nothing. Just a dream, James. Really. I had a bad dream. A bad dream, that's it." I didn't know if I was answering him or assuring myself.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked me.

"James, I'm fine. You don't have to pretend to be all sweet to me." The minute those words left my mouth, I knew I was being unreasonable. Something in his eyes shifted, and his expression hardened. I bit my tongue. James was actually trying to _help_ me out, and I was, being a jerk to him. The gentle (and rare) expression which had been on his face a minute ago was completely gone now. When he spoke again, it was in an oddly detached voice.

"Of course, Lily. I'm sorry...I'll just go back to my room. Sorry to disturb you."

And then, without uttering a word, he got up and moved towards the door.

"James!" I jumped down from my bead and caught his arm. I felt the tingles again. _Strange,_ I thought.

"I'm sorry. I was just..I wasn't thinking, James, I was so shaken, I'm sorry...I didn't mean it, honestly, I – "

"Hey, its okay, Lily! Calm down," He cut off my rambling. His instant forgiveness only made me feel worse. _How could he be so good to a dork like me?_ After a pause, I spoke,

"James...can I ask you something?"

"How did you feel when your parents died?" I continued before I could lose the nerve to ask him.

The anger evaporated from his face and for once he looked vulnerable. It hadn't been long since Mr. and Mrs. Potter had died. I instantly regretted asking. It wasn't anything sinister; Remus told me they'd died due to a wizarding disease. But I couldn't imagine how hard it must have been for James. His parents' death had brought about a permanent change in him; he no longer had a cocky grin, just a confident one. Of course, he still got into plenty of mischief – but the type that wouldn't harm anybody. In a way, it had caused him to suddenly grow up.

"Well..." he began, "It was sudden. It wasn't something I expected, they weren't really that old and…well, it was terrible. For days, I couldn't think of how I could continue with my life. I felt like I'd been snapped in half, like nothing could ever be the same. And if not for Sirius and Remus...I guess I'd still be sitting in a corner somewhere, broken. Sirius and Remus stood by me, they were my strength. They are the reason I'm still sane. I miss my parents, a lot. Its something you can't even imagine. Even now when I think about it, it seems surreal, like a bad dream." He suddenly stopped. _He regrets telling me all this. He's probably wondering why he's talking to me about this in the first place,_ I thought.

"So, this was your dream. You had a dream that your parents…" His voice faded, realization dawning on his face.

"Yeah. It was terrible, James. Thank you...and I'm sorry.." I told him.

"Its okay Evans, they are fine, your parents." He assured me. I'd been trying to tell myself the same thing, but for some reason it was easier to believe when he said it. I realized that I actually felt much better now and it was partly because of _his_ presence. I sighed. James gave me a slightly bewildered look, probably wondering how I'd gone from apologizing to sighing in contentment in a minute. _He's really quite nice. Why had I been pushing him away for so long again?_ And then, of course, I felt like kicking myself. Just because he'd been so pleasant and considerate one night didn't mean he was the perfect, reformed James. He was still James Potter. I thought I might make as much clear to him. I looked up at James. He looked worried – I'd been staring into space for quite some time now.

"This doesn't make us friends James. Thanks for being here, though," I told him. He grinned.

"Of course Evans, who said we were friends? Nope, you are still the same nerdy, overly disciplined fellow Head Girl."

"And you are the same obnoxious, arrogant Head Boy, Potter' I added.

"Oh, back to 'Potter' again, are we?"

"Yes we are, Potter." I said defiantly.

"You're warming up to me, Evans..." He said, grinning that signature grin of his. I couldn't help but smile back.

He wished me good night, and left.

Tonight, it felt like another knot in our relationship had come loose. He had revealed a vulnerable side of his character to me, one that I'd never known had existed. And strangely, I'd confided in him without any hesitation. He had made me feel _better._ I smiled at the thought and lay down on the bed. _I wouldn't mind being around this James so much,_ I thought. felt myself fade into a slumber as I smiled.


End file.
